Thirty-Nine Million Dollars and a Brown Folder on the Kitchen Table

The carbon copy attached to it was my own check, drawn on my own farm operating account.

I had paid those taxes myself.

I had always paid them.

Ranata had taken eleven thousand four hundred dollars from our parents, claiming it was to rescue me.

She had simply pocketed the cash.

Mr.

Gable looked at the two pieces of paper.

“She invented a crisis,” he said quietly.